


A Simple Touch

by HedonistInk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tiny bit of Angst, head kissing, mentions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9218774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk
Summary: Shiro wanted nothing more than to cross the room, gather him up in his arms, and press a mess of soft kisses to his hair. Like he used to so long ago, before Voltron, before the Galra, before Kerberos, before any of it, back when they were just two naïve kids at the Garrison who thought the greatest threat facing them in the universe was the risk of failing one of their exams, when they were two foolish kids who thought they had all the time in the world to figure out what the "this" was between them, when they never bothered to put a name to what it was that found Keith often curled up in front of Shiro while they watched training videos or reviewed material and Shiro toyed with his hair, braiding and unbraiding it, running the strands through his fingers.But that was a world away.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manamune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manamune/gifts).



> My gift for budew for the Sheith Secret Santa! You asked for Shiro fixating on Keith's hair, mutual pining, and having to re-learn each other. And this was what came to mind. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> As always, comments & kudos are loved and appreciated!

The mission had been _difficult_ to say the least. Yellow and Green both took major damage and even Red had suffered a temporary power failure when a large piece of metallic shrapnel had pierced through the hull.

Red.

Keith's lion.

Keith.

Keith had been taken right to the healing pods as soon as they'd landed--if you could call it a landing--back in the hangar.

Shiro had been the one to take him there, watching the red of blood slip along the formerly bright white of his armor. He'd spent the better part of the evening pacing the room, watching his own hands clasped in front of him and fidgeting as he moved. Even when Lance came hobbling in with Hunk leaning heavily on his shoulder, Shiro had barely spared them a glance. It had been Allura who'd finally sent him to bed, her tone--and her glare--leaving no room for question. 

Sleep didn't come easy. And when it did, it came with nightmares. Shiro's sleep was plagued with terrible thoughts of Keith bleeding and dying in his arms, of Shiro's hand glowing that ominous purple, covered in steaming blood, of being the  _ cause _ of it. His nightmares taunted him with the idea that if anything happened to Keith it would be his fault, that he would be the one to blame. 

Shiro had woken in a cold sweat, a scream dying in his throat with the image of his prosthetic hand impaled through Keith's chest seared behind his eyelids. He tried everything. All of his tricks. Counting. Noting things in the room. Timing his breaths. Pacing his room. Nothing had helped. 

So instead, he paced the castle. Shiro moved carefully through the corridor where everyone's sleeping quarters were. It wasn't as though the rooms weren't effectively soundproof. But it was just… habitual. Walk quietly when walking by possibly sleeping people. That was just habit. Although several of those rooms were empty. Pidge was probably already out of the pod. And Lance was definitely asleep in his bed. Hunk, Allura had said, would probably be in the pod for nearly as long as Keith. 

Passing the kitchen, Shiro heard noises. And, getting closer, a voice. Hunk. Hunk was out of the pod. Shiro let out a breath. But still… Keith was probably still in there. Alone, isolated, trapped in that small space. Not that he would be aware of it while he was there. But Shiro was. 

Shaking off the thought, Shiro headed for the lounge. If he couldn't sleep he could at least get a change of scenery. Keith would be fine. They'd said as much. Altean technology was nothing short of a wonder. Keith would be fine. Rounding a bend in the corridor, Shiro stopped in his tracks when he saw the door to the lounge sitting open. Brighter light was spilling out into the corridor, contrasting the night-cycle lighting. 

Who aside from him would be up so late? 

Creeping closer, Shiro tried to not announce his presence before turning the corner into the room. When he did, what he saw took away the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. " _ Keith. _ " Shiro breathed out the name, joy and overwhelmed relief carrying the air from his lungs in a burst. 

There, perched at one end of the couch, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs, sat Keith. He looked worn, tired, but very very much alive. Alive. Keith was alive. Keith was going to be okay. 

Shiro wanted nothing more than to cross the room, gather him up in his arms, and press a mess of soft kisses to his hair. Like he used to so long ago, before Voltron, before the Galra, before Kerberos, before any of it, back when they were just two naïve kids at the Garrison who thought the greatest threat facing them in the universe was the risk of failing one of their exams, when they were two foolish kids who thought they had all the time in the world to figure out what the "this" was between them, when they never bothered to put a name to what it was that found Keith often curled up in front of Shiro while they watched training videos or reviewed material and Shiro toyed with his hair, braiding and unbraiding it, running the strands through his fingers. 

But that was a world away. 

Shiro knew now, he knew what the name was. He had been in love with Keith, still was in love with him, wanted nothing more than to have Keith feel the same about him. But nine months apart was a long time. And when Shiro had come back, things were… different. And Shiro didn't know how to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Or even if Keith wanted to. In all the time since their unexpected reunion, since first waking up in that desert shack, the most contact they had had were casual shoulder touches. He thought he'd caught Keith staring at him more than once. But neither of them had made any move beyond that. And it ached. It ached in Shiro's chest. Especially in times like this when Keith had been so  _ hurt _ and Shiro had been so  _ scared _ of losing him.

"Planning on standing there all night…?" Keith's words startled Shiro from his memories sharply. 

"O-oh… No I…" 

"Couldn't sleep?" It's barely even a question. 

"…No. Not… No." 

Shiro swore he could see the slightest flicker of a smile pass across Keith's lips before the smaller man was gesturing towards the couch in silent invitation. An invitation that Shiro took carefully, sitting at the opposite end of the couch with legs outstretched. Neither of them spoke, the silent presence a quiet reassurance. 

It was nearly five minutes before Shiro caught a shift out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over in time to watch Keith settling back into the couch. A good several feet closer than he had been before. Shiro's lips quirked into a quiet smile, one brow raising in question. Keith's only answer was a sheepish shrug. 

Another few minutes passing saw another shift closer from Keith. And another a few minutes later. And again. And again. Before long, Keith was settled in right beside Shiro, facing forward. When another few minutes saw no change, Shiro started to think that this was Keith's goal, just sitting next to him. 

But then there was a weight on Shiro's shoulder. The weight of Keith's head. Keith's head was resting on Shiro's shoulder. The gesture was silent but certain. And Shiro barely dared to move, barely dared to breathe for risk of dislodging the man on his shoulder. 

It was another few minutes before Shiro managed to feel confident enough in the gesture to move. Carefully, tentatively, his hand came up to rest at the back of Keith's head. When all the action earned was a quiet nuzzle into his shoulder, he let out a shaky breath. Shiro allowed himself the freedom to twine his fingers through the soft strands of hair, keeping his touch gentle and light and earning another nuzzle for his efforts. It felt nice, familiar in a way that lifted a weight from Shiro's chest he didn't know was there. 

Emboldened, Shiro started to stroke at Keith's hair more firmly, finally turning his head to nuzzle the tip of his nose into it. Keith shuddered and Shiro froze for a moment. But the other man didn't pull away. After a moment, Shiro offered up another small nuzzle. Hesitantly, he pressed a kiss to the crown of Keith's head, firm and solid. 

Keith pulled away then. But the apology that was forming on Shiro's tongue died before passing his lips when, rather than moving away, Keith instead moved to settle on the floor in front of Shiro. Just like he always had… before. Back in the days before everything had gone to chaos. When Shiro didn't move for a long moment, Keith turned to look back at him expectantly, lower lip drawn between his teeth apprehensively. 

This was the offer, this was the opening. Keith was inviting him. Inviting him back in. If he turned away the offer… He didn't know when or if it would ever come again. This was Keith trying, trying to piece the bridge between them back together. And Shiro had never wanted anything more than he wanted for that. 

Letting out a breath, Shiro nodded. He adjusted his legs to let Keith settle between them comfortably, back resting against the cushion of the couch. The other man accepted the offer without question, even if his posture stayed tense, shoulders set. Still… he had accepted it. With Keith settled in, Shiro moved to run his fingers through the other man's hair. Keith jumped at first, as if expecting an attack more than an embrace but quickly stilled, the sound of a shaky breath spilling into the air. 

Shiro stayed still for another few moments before moving. Brushing his fingers of one hand across the back of Keith's neck Shiro earned a shiver and a slight relaxation. Shiro lifted his other hand but halted, staring at the softly reflective metal of his prosthetic hand.  _ Weapon. Dangerous. Hurt. _ His nightmare flashed back to him in waves and his hand clenched into a fist as he stared at it. Shiro shouldn't have been touching anyone with it so  _ tenderly _ . Especially not Keith. Keith deserved  _ better _ than that. Shiro was barely even aware of how he was shaking until Keith's hand was closing around his, holding him steady as he sat halfway twisted around. Shiro's gaze flicked up, colder grey meeting the warmer, almost purple grey of Keith's eyes.

Silently, Keith shifted his grip, prying open Shiro's hand and pressing his cheek to Shiro's palm. Shiro's breath caught in his chest, shuddering out shakily a few moments later. Neither of them moved. At least, not until Keith turned his head, pressing his lips to Shiro's metallic palm in a soft kiss, never breaking his gaze. 

Trust. It was a look of absolute trust. Keith trusted him, wholeheartedly and completely. And whether or not Shiro thought he  _ deserved _ that trust, it was being given to him, had been given to him.  _ It's okay. _ The silent meaning was obvious and Shiro swallowed hard before nodding. 

Keeping his gaze for another moment, Keith finally seemed satisfied, dropping away the hand that held Shiro's palm to his face and turning to face forward again. There was no tension in his shoulders this time. 

Only trust. 

Shiro's fingers worked slowly at first, cold metal not holding muscle memory for things it never did. But his left hand remembered the movements well and soon his fingers were sweeping in the easy gestures of braids. Shiro wasn't sure how much time he spent absently braiding and unbraiding Keith's hair, carding his fingers through it to straighten it out before rebraiding it again, but it was long enough for Keith's head to start to loll and Shiro's fingers to start to feel sluggish. 

Finally, when Shiro had unbraided all of the braids except one for the umpteenth time, Keith turned, taking the other man's hand in his again. He pressed another soft kiss to the cold metal. And another, blinking slowly up at Shiro with silent meaning in his stare. 

Without any spoken words passing between them, Shiro moved to tug at Keith's hand gently and a moment later Keith was climbing back up onto the couch. Shiro turned himself slightly sideways to relax and a moment later Keith's head was coming to rest in his lap. 

There would probably be questions from the others in the morning if they slept like this. They could handle that in the morning. For now, Keith was lying in Shiro's lap, half asleep, and Shiro couldn't dream of asking him to move, his own eyes falling shut as he carded his fingers through Keith's hair slowly. It was almost like having a cat, he mused. 

"…I missed you." The words were quiet enough that Shiro had to strain to hear them but when he did his heart fluttered itself into a series of backflips, seeming to suddenly swell almost too big to fit in his chest as he froze. No 'it's good to have you back', no diffused sentences, nothing about the team. Just 'I missed you'. Honest and open and blatant. 

"…I love you." Shiro hadn't meant for the words to come out. But there they were. Honest bluntness had dragged out honest bluntness, a half-asleep admission of absolute truth. Out in the air between them. Shiro wasn't sure whose breaths had frozen first. He wasn't sure it mattered. He knew he probably shouldn't have said the words the moment they passed his lips. 

The silence that stretched between them was long as Shiro tried to think of what to say. He couldn't apologize for it. He wasn't sorry. Not really. Keith deserved to know, had always deserved to know. And if it meant that this moment had been just a temporary flash of a memory, then so be it. 

"You too." 

"What?" Shiro blurted out the question on half a breath. 

Keith tensed again and reflexively Shiro moved to card his fingers through the fine hairs at the base of the other man's neck. "…I… love you… too… Have for a long time." Keith's fingers curled in the fabric of Shiro's pants almost as if he expected Shiro to push him away. 

But that was the last thing Shiro wanted. Not now. Not when Keith had… 

_ Keith had said he loved him. _

Eyes wide in blatant wonder, Shiro moved to carefully pry Keith's fingers from the fabric as the smaller man turned in his lap, looking up at him apprehensively. Shiro moved Keith's hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles before letting go. His movement was answered with Keith's hand uncurling and cupping at his cheek, thumb brushing across his lips. 

Almost in perfect mirror, matching smiles spread across each of their faces. This was… this was fine. They were fine. They were going to be fine. 

Maybe things that were broken really  _ could  _ reform stronger. 


End file.
